Punk'd: Marauders Edition
by The Paisley Pajamas
Summary: In which the Marauders earn their fifth year of infamy and Peter considers which side he owes his allegiance to. Fluff&stuff, but the plot is there.
1. The First Chapter

**Authors' Notes**: This is a joint venture between Zerlina and I, and considering that she is currently indisposed and that I am left to post this myself, I have nothing witty to say. Er. Enjoy. :awkward silence:

**Disclaimer**: None of the characters are ours, but honestly, what's the point of putting up these ridiculous things when it's established that none of the characters are ours...

* * *

"Pssst." 

The hiss reverberated around the dimly lit corridor. The muffled movements behind the unlocked door halted for a second.

"Pssst!" It came more urgently this time. A boy's head peeked out tentatively from behind the door, which bore an impressive sign saying "Laundry."

"What is it, Padfoot? Is someone coming?" Glasses glinted in the dim light as the boy turned to face the source of the 'pssst's: an attractive, dark-haired teenager, who, for obvious reasons, was looking bored and rather indignant.

"This is tiresome, Prongs," replied Bored And Rather Indignant. "Let Moony take over for me, will you? I want a bit of the fun; don't hog it all for yourselves." He allowed himself an exaggerated yawn.

"Sirius, I was patrolling for twenty minutes before you, and you've only been out there for no more than five!" Another boy's head had popped out from behind the door, prematurely gray hair ruffling petulantly.

"Well, then where's Peter?" The boy named Sirius continued to whine, abandoning all pretense in the form of nicknames, "He's good for this kind of boring, sneaky rubbish. I daresay his whiskers have been drooping from a lack of orders issued by James." The gray-haired 'Moony' did not look sympathetic. He pointed his wand at Sirius accusingly. "I don't know where he is. Can you please pay attention to the map? It's way after dark and while the two of you (he nodded at messy-haired James and Sirius) have few qualms of acquiring extra detentions (Sirius huffed unbecomingly at this), it would do you lot good to remember that prefects don't possess this luxury! And I'd like to get this done quickly, too!" He muttered the last bit hurriedly for the sake of a disgruntled Sirius, who resignedly turned to the parchment in his hands. James gave him an encouraging sort of smirk and disappeared back inside as well.

Sirius knew that Remus, his patronizing friend, and James were attempting to administer the extremely difficult Tumbling Charm on a fourth of the school's clothes so that it would go off simultaneously at nine o'clock during their first class. However, Sirius really did not enjoy the task he had been employed to do: sitting on an icy tiled floor, keeping a lookout for teachers and prefects. He was only somewhat consoled by the thought that tomorrow morning, the unknowing Slytherins, including dearly beloved Snivellus, would don these freshly laundered trousers and that mischief would once again be managed.

It's a disgrace, he thought, to be basically left out of such a well designed plot, a plot he unabashedly recognized as his own. But he sighed and looked back down at the Marauders' Map, for he had been staring absently at a portrait of a house-elf scratching its buttock indiscreetly while ironing a bow tie. He immediately snapped out of his reverie as he registered a dot hurriedly advancing on their otherwise deserted corridor.

"Crikes! Moony! Prongs! Evans Alert! Approaching with immense velocity!" He called urgently through the crack.

"Crap, Padfoot, are you serious?" James called. Sirius contemplated answering sarcastically, but decided that this wasn't the time. "Yes, Prongs, you got your cloak?" Sirius whispered back quickly. He slipped into the room only to be greeted by a horrified look from his friend.

"Oh no, I left it back in the dormitories!" The two whacked their own foreheads simultaneously.

Remus interrupted their melodramatic display of sorrow. "Are you two absolutely daft?"

James and Sirius looked at him hopefully, ignoring the insult to their intelligence. "I'll go head her off and you guys remain here until the coast is clear. Got it?" The two nodded gratefully. How could they have forgotten? Remus was a prefect.

Remus darted out of the room, issued one last 'shhh', and closed the door gently behind him.

"Oh, it's you Remus," said a girl's voice from the other side of the wooden door. James pressed his ear excitedly against the keyhole and slipped on the hem of his robes into a pile of dirty Quidditch robes labeled "Hufflepuff," which muffled his landing. Sirius snickered softly, but regretted it immediately.

"What was that?" The girl's sharp voice had turned toward the direction of the door they were behind.

"Err, no idea," came Remus's hurried reply, "Uhm, say, Lily, would you like to inspect the third floor with me? I heard something crash earlier. No doubt Peeves having his way with the chandelier outside of Filch's personal bathroom." There was short silence and bated breath in the laundry room.

"Uhh, I guess if you say so…" Lily replied slowly. "Are you sure there's no one behind that door, Remus?"

"Behind a door? Oh! That door! Haha, no, well see, I thought so myself, which is why you saw me emerging from it earlier, but it seems I was wrong. Hah. Nobody there! Not a soul." A hearty laugh echoed throughout the hall.

"Remus… Are you lying to me?" Lily asked, imploringly.

"Er, lying? What lying? There's no lying," Remus said nervously.

"Potter and Black are behind that door, aren't they?" It was more of a statement than a question. Through a sliver of light in the otherwise pitch black room, Sirius and James gave each other outraged looks at this rapid state of conclusion-jumping.

"No, I assure you they are quite safe and in bed at the moment, Lily!" Remus insisted.

"I honestly don't much care much for their safety," Lily answered, "but I am sorely tired of their nonsense!" James and Sirius heard footsteps approaching their hideout. They had a split second to agilely leap behind a pile labeled "Ravenclaw—Undergarments," just as the door swung open.

"Lumos," came Lily's voice. Remus looked over her shoulder and let out a breath of relief.

"Well, it appears that I was wrong," Lily said disappointedly, her vividly piercing green eyes scanning the room. She was ready to turn away her wand, but the stream of light caught on the heel of a familiar black trainer.

"Potter, you imbecile!" she growled indignantly and swung her wand at Ravenclaw's briefs. The pile came tumbling down over the fugitives.

"Black! I knew it!" Lily's eyes flashed dangerously, "You idiots, do you have any idea what time it is? You are out of bounds at midnight, and that means detention!" She paused, taking in the surroundings. "What the devil are you doing in here anyway!"

"Inspecting the Quidditch robes for, err, jinxes, if you must really bother yourself to know, Evans," piped Sirius with as much dignity as one could muster with a spotted mustard-yellow brazier dangling from one's ear.

"Jinxes? What sort of rubbish are you spewing!" Lily demanded.

James took his lead and added, "Er, well it's true, see, we have a game against Hufflepuff tomorrow, and well, we figured old Miffins looked a tad shifty, so we came down—"

"Shifty? Miffins?" she cried, "What has he ever done to you? Or anyone for that matter! All he does is sit in a corner and read!"

"Always the quiet ones!" said Sirius pointedly, while attempting to disentangle himself from the hideous undergarment, but desisted at once under a ferocious glare. Lily took a moment to look around the room suspiciously. "If I find out what trouble you've been brewing, mark my words—hey! Potter! Black! Get back here this instant!" But the two best friends had already stolen their opportunity to race past her, each under one of Lily's arms, and were already down the corridor.

"Stop! Come back here NOW!" she screeched.

"Only if you promise to go out with me!" was the distant answer.

Huffing indignantly, Lily turned to a still present Remus and said, "Honestly, Remus, I don't understand why you can't try to control those two. But you've even stooped to the level of aiding and abetting their crimes!" Remus's eyebrows shot up at this statement, but he just shrugged awkwardly. Having nothing else to say, and in an extremely huffy mood at the thought of Potter's audacity, she stomped off without another word.


	2. Morning, Starshine!

**Author's Note (Or Whatever)**: Blah blah blah cats ate my soul blah blah. Zerlina here, by the way (and by force, because Maria is a slave master).

**Disclaimer**: If I did, I wouldn't share.

* * *

"Good morning, starshine!" 

Sirius Black hurled a carefully aimed pillow at the head of one James Potter, who did not bother to duck anymore, after nearly six years of the very same morning ritual. Instead the pillow was deftly caught and successively employed in beating Sirius over the head.

"M'dear Padfoot." A sound smack. "When will you ever learn?"

A muffled "Bugger off" could be heard from the blanket-cocoon, which was surprisingly sedate after having just been assaulted quite viciously by a lump of feathers wielded by its best friend.

"No, really." James stood with hands on hips, though this terrifyingly austere pose was lost on Sirius, who was currently in his Not Looking At You, You Bastard mode. "Get up. You don't want to miss Double-Potions with Slytherins."

"Actually, James, it's quite the opposite. I _do_ want to miss Double-Potions, which, if you'll bring yourself to believe, is more commonly referred to as Hell Too Early In The Morning by the majority of the student body."

"No! No, you don't! At least, not today." James grabbed the nearest lamp and began prodding the prostate form of his friend. "Remember? Tumbling Charm?" A particularly brutal poke, followed by a conspiratorial, "Undergarments?"

Silence reigned as James contemplated turning stag and ruthlessly crushing Sirius beneath his hooves. Then, suddenly—

"Ooooh!" The cocoon unraveled at whirlwind speed, and all James saw of his friend was a flash of black hair as Sirius made a mad dash to the bathroom. Seconds later, he emerged with a toothbrush in his mouth and began searching frantically for his school uniform.

James thought that this must be what a tornado looked like close-up. And on fast forward.

"If you're looking for your tie, Remus transfigured it into a pair of Peter's underwear. He thought it'd be funny. And to get back at you for running off and leaving him alone with Lily last night, though I don't see any reason to complain about that, the lucky bastard."

An unintelligible reply.

"For your information, my mum has never come within five feet of—"

Sirius threw a mock glare in his direction before removing his toothbrush and stating, with staggering finality, "You. Are an idiot. And why didn't Remus do anything to you?" He took a deep breath and readied himself for the Venture Into Peter's Dirty Laundry.

"He supposed Lily would take care of that."

"Ha," said Sirius from the midst of a haphazard pile of Peter's clothes. "Too true. You are so whipped, Prongs."

"Shut up."

"And you're scared to go down to the Great Hall yourself because Evans might ambush you and behead you on the spot."

"Sirius—"

"Or, better yet, she might turn into a ferocious man-eating tiger and devour you whole. You never know with girls. It might be a kink of hers."

"Listen to me, Black—"

"No, wait. I got it! She'll pull one of those Muggle monster trug things out of her back pocket and run you over with it!"

"Firstly, it's called a 'truck,' and _secondly_, that defies all the laws of logic."

"Bugger logic! It's never done _me_ any good."

"Sirius, mate, much as I would love to continue this intellectually-stimulating conversation with you, my need for food overpowers everything else at the moment."

And in true-Black fashion, the other boy ignored him. "I don't see _why_ it wouldn't work, anyway. I mean, she minimizes the trug-lug-bug-whatever with magic and when she sees her target—that'll be you here, Jamsie—BAM! Back to its original size. Then all she has to do is—"

"I'm just slightly concerned that you of all people are planning my imminent doom in such meticulous detail."

Sirius waved away the remark. "Then all she has to do is get in, start the, uh, you know, enger thinger and _that_," he smiled sweetly, "Will be the end of you, dear Prongs. But don't worry. I'll be sure to give you a decent funeral, complete with dung bombs going off in the middle of everyone giving their obligatory eulogies on what a great person you were (even though you were—I mean—are a right bastard, just so you know) and wet-start-fireworks shooting into the air while you're being lowered into the ground for all of eternity."

James took a moment to absorb the utter rubbish that his presumably best friend had just spewed with not so much as a blink while slinging discarded clothes over his shoulder. "No." He paused and started again. "No, because you would valiantly jump in front of the oncoming vehicle, flailing your arms wildly, and saving me from such a dishonorable death."

Sirius nodded sagely, but did not stop in his task.

"AND," said James, "To prove you wrong yet again, my friend, I will now journey down to the Great Hall, braving any dangers that may come my way. Alone."

Sirius snorted.

"That's illegal, you know. I'll have to tell McGonagall that you're ingesting illegal substances again."

"You used to be funny. Now you're just not."

James turned to exit the dormitory. "Padfoot, I was never funny. You just found ways to laugh at me."

"That's more of an insult to you than anything, Prongs."

An obscene gesture from the bespectacled boy concluded their conversation and Sirius was left to decide which one of Peter's undergarments he should tie around his neck.

* * *

Sirius entered the Great Hall with precisely seventeen minutes left for breakfast. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily stumble with the forkful of eggs that were en route to her mouth, as she stared disbelievingly at him. Sirius grinned his patented Black grin and made his way over to his usual seat, winking lecherously at the Slytherin table as he passed.

"Padfoot. Just when I thought your stupidity had finally resigned itself to randomly steering you into brick walls, you pull something like this, and any standards I have set for you fall dead at my feet."

"Moony, Moony, Moony. This is completely your fault, you realize?"

"Insufferable," was the only response.

"Excellent work, Padfoot. Beautiful workmanship."

"Why, thank you, Prongs. I thought so myself."

James laughed. "How long will the charm last?"

"About six hours, if I did it right."

"And how long did it take you to do?"

Sirius harrumphed. "Too bloody long." He turned to a shell-shocked Peter. "Pete, I do hope you don't mind. But you have Remus to blame for this, remember."

"I didn't _intend_ for you to stitch his underwear together, charm them red and gold, and string them around your neck!"

"But it was quicker than trying to find my tie, which, if you'll recall, _you_ transfigured!"

Remus shook his head but tried valiantly not to hurl the jug of pumpkin juice across the table at a too-smug Sirius.

"Ohmm, bwimey! Iffs eight forty!" James pushed away from the table, splattering Remus's shoulder with bacon rinds.

Sirius looked up in alarm, a familiar mischievous glint rising in his grey eyes as he ran his hand anxiously up and down his underwear-tie. A wicked smile crept onto his face.

"Hehe, lads, let's get a move on now, shall we?" he cackled. "Wouldn't want to miss Double-Potions."

Remus frowned slightly, dabbing his collarbone with a napkin.

Sirius's grin broadened. "Aw, now Moony-woony, don't act so ungrateful. Professor Slughorn is a wonderful teacher. Absolutely fantastic. Some would give their _pants_ to be in his class." He caught James's eye and the two guffawed at his wit.

Across the table, Lily's eyes narrowed at the mention of the word "pants." Putting two and two together, she made a motion as to get up from the table and begin walking their direction. Sensing danger, James and Sirius bolted from the Great Hall. Lily Evans walking in the direction of James voluntarily was _never_ a good omen.

Lily smirked as James turned his head back instinctively and watched as he fought an internal battle, his survival instincts telling him to run and his Gryffindor pride demanding that he stand his ground and die—no, wrong word—fight like a man.

But testosterone failed him as he shot a final defiant glare in Lily's direction and ran like a three-eyed newt from a Potions master, praying to whatever Powers That Be to preserve his existence at least until he reached twenty, please, because he enjoyed living, really he did, and he enjoyed not being disemboweled even more.

Remus sighed as he and Peter followed their two friends into what he could only see as Certain Doom.


	3. Hey Prongs!

**Author's Note**: Hello, Maria speaking. I would like to apologize profuselyfor not creating the Potions scene, but I'm really not allowed to, so instead I humbly apologize for not being able to apologize profusely, something I really shouldn't be apologizing for, so if you're even remotely aware of what's going on (which I'm happy to say that I'm not), you may now proceed to the actual chapter.

**Disclaimer**: Beh.

* * *

Hey Prongs—what are these tubular contraptions?" 

Madam Rosmerta had returned with their requested butterbeers and a cylindrical can of long, thin, and brightly colored tubes.

"Well, Padfoot. Er, these deceptively simple devices are used to—uh." James lowered his voice to a whisper, as Madame Rosmerta was only five feet away. "_You know_." He waggled his eyebrows.

Sirius's eyes widened. "Really?" He picked one up and frowned at it. "But they're so flimsy." He twirled it around. "And the hole's so… big," he said incredulously.

"Very inventive, James." Remus said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't get it," Peter said worriedly.

"_You_ don't get it, Wormtail. But perhaps Moony here would like to demonstrate."

Remus huffed at them, grabbed a straw impatiently and plopped it into his butterbeer. He gave the other boys a Look and began to suck on it pointedly.

James and Sirius leaned forward and gaped in horror.

"Remus!" they exclaimed simultaneously. They had no idea Remus had swayed in that direction.

"Who's the lucky man?" asked Sirius, recovering first.

"And when do we get to meet him," added James conspiratorially.

Remus sighed. He had often found himself in situations as equally hopeless before.

A thoroughly horrified Peter had finally grasped the concept and toppled out of his chair. Exasperated, Remus harrumphed indignantly and proceeded to explain the precise mechanics of a Muggle drinking straw.

"_Muggles_," breathed the other three in awe.

A sudden stroke of genius ran a victory lap around Sirius's brain. He reached for the container and pulled out an orange straw triumphantly.

"Hey Prongs, it's you!" He ceremoniously dunked the orange straw into his butterbeer. James eyed him suspiciously but did not say a word. He was all too familiar with Sirius's brilliant epiphanies and had concluded not to further inspire him.

Sirius looked around and spotted a green straw. "Ooh! Evans!" he proclaimed excitedly. He grabbed it. "And this is what will never happen." He shot a sympathetic look at James and dropped the straw next to the orange one.

Peter gasped. "Are they in a _bathtub_?"

"You're catching on!" Sirius smirked.

James reached over and took a swipe at the head of his Best friend Turned Mortal Enemy (For Life). Sirius easily dodged the blow, but rammed his forehead into the table in the process.

"K.O.!" James victoriously awarded himself a high-five.

Sirius rubbed his head but grinned deviously. "You know, Prongs? I think I consider myself more of a realist." He carefully selected a crusty-yellow straw and replaced the Evans straw. "Ahh, that's better."

James elegantly raised an eyebrow, while reaching for his own butterbeer. "And who might that be..?"

Sirius flashed him a toothy grin. "Why, your bride-to-be, Snivellus, of course!"

James gagged on the butterbeer he had just ingested. The fluid came rushing out of his nose and tears blurred his bulging eyes. ("You look like a toad," Remus offered.)

"Why, what a gorgeous shade of puce you have turned," Sirius said, "it would clash nicely with your future fiancé's nails." Sirius's eyes brightened at a newly-occurred thought.

"And let's throw in Moony as a wedding present!" Sirius added in a lightly colored purple straw. "God knows, he needs to get some."

Remus frowned and asked curiously, "Why am I purple, pray tell?"

"Why, it symbolizes your deviant lifestyle, as you shamelessly flaunted before. Oh, and it's _lilac_, not purple."

"K.O.!" James cried once again, throwing his arms in the air.

"In case you haven't noticed, you prat, we're in this together," Remus stated, "Quite literally, in fact."

"Game over," James intoned sadly. Sirius sniggered.

"When have you found the time to play Muggle video games anyway, Prongs?" Remus asked pleasantly.

"I've taken a liking to a certain, er, pumbler—("Plumber," Remus corrected)—with a large moustache. His weapons are biodegradable; plenty of mushrooms and turnips to swing about."

"Turnips are most certainly more proficient as weapons of mass destruction than as food," Sirius said brightly.

"I like turnips!" Peter protested.

"Yeah, along with crackers slathered in Bull Patty Cream™," said Sirius seriously.

"That never happened!" Peter cried in a panic, remembering incident quite vividly.

"Ah, but Moony's Muggle camcorder begs to differ," said James.

"Speaking of camcorders, one would have definitely been handy this morning," said Sirius, smiling wistfully.

"Hah! Did you see the look on Slughorn's face? He was livid!"

"Same could have been said for you, dearest Prongs, had Snivellus knocked a Shrinking Potion into your lap, arse-first." The friends all broke into laughter at this very memory. This particular memory was _definitely_ worth the five weeks of detentions they had received as punishment.

Sirius choked, tears spilling into his lap. "I believe a toast is in order!"

The other three nodded in gleeful unison, and shouted, "Bottoms up!", clinked their cups, but could not even bring them to their mouths, for the image of the Slytherins tumbling around the dungeons, suspended by their posteriors had popped into each perpetrator's mind and they could no longer control their mirth.

"Oh! That reminds me!" James cried all of a sudden, startling the gay atmosphere. He rummaged around in his cloak pockets. Sirius leaned closer to his friend curiously.

"Aha!" James whipped out a tiny bottle, catching Sirius in the eye with his elbow.

"Ah!" cried a doubly injured Sirius, but no one was paying attention to him anymore. They were gaping at the little bottle in James's hand.

A wave of awe had settled itself over their booth.

Peter's eyes shivered. "That's…"

"…Not good," finished Remus weakly.

Sirius looked turned his undamaged eye to the bottle and squinted up at it. The eye widened twofold.

"This is definitely not good, James!" James looked slightly put off.

"This is fantastic!"

James offered a relieved grin. "You scared me for a second there, Padfoot."

"Are you mental, Prongs? Wow…" Sirius breathed, "Voldy's Vaporous Vodka… I've been trying to get my hands on that stuff for ages! No one sells it!"

"Because it's forbidden, you arse-mittens! Put it _away_!" Remus hissed. James retracted his hand back into his cloak with a poorly concealed grin.

"Wow, James," Peter squeaked, obviously impressed, "where did you get it?"

"Well, my pa had thi—"

"It doesn't matter where or how he got it!" Remus interrupted, "Because James wasn't really thinking of sharing it, or drinking it himself, for that matter!"

James and Sirius provided him with exceptionally dubious looks. "Pardon?" Sirius asked with mock politeness.

"If we get caught with that, our only hopes of remaining here at Hogwarts would be to apply as _House Elves_." He breathed the last two words angrily.

Sirius looked scandalized. "Surely you jest!"

Remus felt somewhat relieved. Perhaps Sirius had some morals after all. "No, it's true," Remus said with feigned regret.

"I don't care if it's true or not!" Sirius cried indignantly. His tears lost their cheerfulness. "Remus John Lupin, you have no idea how brutal a blow you just issued a dear friend of yours, whom, might I add, you have just lost!" With that, he pushed his chair back and ran out of the pub wailing. The Three Broomsticks fell awkwardly silent.

Remus's jaw dropped and he turned to an equally shocked Peter and James.

"Was it something I said?"

"Must've been the bit about getting caught," James offered, "Sirius believes that he could get away with anything if he truly wants to."

"But this is serious…"

"So is he." James guffawed at his timely pun.

"Will he be okay, do you think?" Peter asked worriedly.

James brushed him off impatiently. "Of course. Give him fifteen more seconds."

Quite punctually, Sirius burst back into the tavern fifteen seconds later and proclaimed gleefully, "_Snivelly_!"

James was up and at the door in a blur of black hair. Peter and an alarmed Remus followed.

The weather outside could not have been more perfect for a typical October afternoon. The warm winds were blowing in the particularly appetizing scent of Dinner all the way from Hogwarts. The villagers of Hogsmeade had kindly offered an amazing variety of decorations for the upcoming holiday of Halloween; houses had been transfigured into pumpkins, cats were given a temporarily traumatized appearance by their owners, and the yellow "lawn" of the Shrieking Shack was covered in eerie, chuckling tombstones. Remus could make out a cloaked figure with extremely bad posture making its way across through the tombstones. The figure's oily, black hair did not shift in the wind, but its cloak was making up for that, whipping awkwardly around the figure's legs.

Remus sighed, and wandered vaguely whether he would ever witness a day in which Sirius and James would stop tormenting Severus Snape.

"Oy! _Snivelly_!" James shouted over the wind. He was catching up with Sirius, and they were only a few yards from the Shrieking Shack.

The figure paused, and turned in the direction of the exclamation. Its eyes widened, and it stood there, as though unable to decide which way to run first. Too late.

* * *

**Author's SecondNote**: It has recently come to our attention (okay, maybe not recently, it's actually been this way for a while) that while we get a lot of page views, no one is actually reviewing. This makes us sad. Very, very sad. Please understand that reviews are very appreciated, yes even the very frightening ones that threaten our lives to take down such blasphemy, because they're all reviews after all. :shameful begging ensues: 


	4. The Disembowlment of Severus Snape

**Note Thing**: Zerlina here. Nothing of great significance to report, except that this chapter is into bondage and should be ignored if it tries to seduce you.

**Disclaimer**: NEVER! has a nice ring to it.

* * *

Severus Snape did not often walk into life-or-death situations, and if your name is not Harry Potter (who, as of this moment, does not exist and will not exist for another decade or so), it is likely that the same holds true for you as well.

There is a long-winded and logical explanation for this fortunate phenomenon, considering that your initials are not H.P., in which case: tough. You see, dear reader, the universe is a vast and very befuddling place, especially if you are not prone to omniscience.

James Potter (who, as of this moment, is not yet related to the aforementioned Harry Potter) will tell you that the universe ends three steps left of Sunday but only if you hop two and pirouette one, and will leave you to decipher for yourself exactly what that means.

Sirius Black (who is not really as noble and ancient as his family name claims to be) will flash you a blinding smile and assure you that wherever the universe ends, it can't possibly be around the corner, so please, do continue your walk and let whatever is on the other side catch you pleasantly unawares.

Remus Lupin (who is only fifteen despite his appearance and appalling taste in argyle socks) will roll his eyes at his friends' antics and quietly state that it doesn't matter how big the universe is, because James and Sirius would map out every star and conveniently misplaced black hole, much like they had mapped the secret hallways and entrances of Hogwarts.

Peter Pettigrew (who tends to laugh too loudly and too late, even when sober) will agree whole-heartedly with Remus because he is not terribly imaginative when it comes to bigger-than-yourself philosophies.

Point in case: the universe is, in fact, very complex and does not revolve around greasy teenaged wizards or even you. Frankly, it does not much matter whether Severus Snape (or you, for that matter) lives or dies, and thusly, the higher entities do not deem it urgent to constantly hurl him (and possibly you) into alligator pits or into a nest of Quintapeds.

That is, until Severus Snape met the Maruaders, upon which he soon discovered that there are much more creative ways to die and that he would be introduced to them on a painfully regular basis.

He silently mused this as he watched two heads of black hair, one sleek and the other strangely mop-like, bob through the crowd in his general direction.

"Snivelly!"

He decided right then and there that, life or death, he wouldn't be able to run five feet before all hell descended upon him.

"How do you do, Severus?"

Snape had been told to "bugger off and die, please" with more warmth and sincerity. He quietly seethed and was sure that the insides of his stomach was not unlike a boiling lake of something really, really hot.

Black addressed Snape in conversational tones. "Has Professor Slughorn forgiven you for that"—he attempted a forlorn expression while valiantly fighting to keep the corners of his mouth down—"regrettable accident yet?"

Something caustic erupted within Snape and he threw all caution to the winds (where it was carried away into the crowd, falling on the heads of several innocent passersby who cried out in righteous indignity).

"Listen, Black, you inbred piece of—"

It was at this exact second that Severus Snape finally understood the full meaning of "crapping in your pants" because, although he did not literally do so, he fully believed he would've if the laws of reality had governed it so. James Potter had become (quite suddenly and without warning) a whirlwind of fists and kicking legs. Snape took a brief moment to wish really hard that he had an incorporeal body instead of this wretched form of flesh and bone that could not turn to vapor and merely float away from harm.

What James Potter lacked in grace, he made up for in unholy speed and blasphemous agility. Something (he wasn't sure if it was a fist or a knee) connected with his jaw and something else (an elbow, perhaps) slammed into his forehead.

All this took no more than ten seconds and it was only after Potter had ceased his barrage of blows that Snape saw that Black's smile had not lost its pseudo-politeness or charm.

Potter sniffed pompously as he chanced a glance over his shoulder. "Sirius?"

"It's no fun when you've nearly decapitated him already."

Remus, who had just caught up with Peter, cringed at the last bit. He exchanged looks with the other boy, who also seemed a bit put off by this harsher than usual display of cruelty. He saw Peter glance up almost apologetically at Snape, who determinedly looked the other way. Not sure what to make of this, Remus looked over at James, who seemed to be lit with an internal fire (no doubt rivaling Snape's gastro-lake in heat and intensity) and Sirius, who seemed oddly (or perhaps forcefully) tranquil.

"Well," said Remus a bit irritably. "I think we've all had enough for one day."

He stalked off towards the castle, the very model of a werewolf in a huff (possibly one who couldn't blow down a certain brick house in Muggle-verse).

Snape composed himself as best as he could after having just been knocked off his feet by a human- cyclone and stomped off into Hogsmeade proper.

The rest of the Marauders followed Remus soon after, considerably less cheerful and much tenser than they had been in the Three Broomsticks.

After a prolonged silence, Remus spoke up. "Was that _necessary_, James?"

"Yes," came the prompt reply.

"Really?"

"Yes, _really_."

Remus threw his arms up in exasperation. "_Why_?"

James said nothing and Sirius, surprisingly, remained silent. Peter frowned.

"All right then. Fine. I hope you enjoy your detentions if he snitches. And he probably will, just so you know." Remus tried to fight down the jealously that was currently turning his skin an unpleasant proverbial green.

James avoided his eyes as Sirius picked up his pace, leaving behind an air of pent-up fury in his wake.

* * *

"I believe you have my stapler?"

"Er…"

"Remus!"

"I'm sorry, Peter! You kind of… caught me off guard," said Remus. "Um, remind me what we are supposed to be doing again?"

Peter ruffled through the bits of parchment in his hands and squinted at his penmanship.

They were sitting in the fifth year boy's dormitory, surrounded by James's and Sirius's belongings. There were two broomsticks chained to the wall, supposedly purchased for experimental purposes, but Remus had his suspicions that they belonged to two Slytherin Chasers.

Remus shifted uncomfortable on Sirius's bed and was greeted with a squeak from his nether-regions. Peter looked up in mild confusion.

"Sirius's boot," said Remus in a way that suggested it was perfectly normal to find that your friend's footwear has mysteriously gravitated towards a larger mass without you noticing.

"Oh," said Peter, turning back to his notes without a second thought.

Neither of them so much as blinked as the curtains of his window billowed dramatically to the floor without a warning. Neither flinched as the top of James's four-poster came crashing down unceremoniously.

"So anyway," Peter continued, as Remus heaved himself off the bed and attempted to shut the window. "We're supposed to fill four feet of parchment with normal Muggle conversation."

"So you chose a stapler. How banal."

"Well, it's supposed to begin with, 'I believe you have my…' and here's a list of items to choose from." Peter waved the parchment in Remus's direction. Remus caught a flash of words like 'refrigerator' and 'water fountain'.

"Oh…"

Peter sent Remus a pleading glance.

Remus sighed. "Then what are we sitting around for? Let's start again."

Peter's eyes lit up. "I believe you have my stapler?" he asked delightedly.

"Oh my, Peter, indeed you are correct!" Remus mock proclaimed.

"May I please have it back, Remus?"

"Why, of course, dear friend."

"Thank you, Remus."

"You're welcome, Peter."

There was an awkward pause.

"This is so hard!" cried Peter, on the verge of tears. "Why did I have to take Muggles Studies?"

Remus frowned apologetically at Peter. He wasn't sure how to go about informing his friend that Muggles rarely carried on enough of a conversation about staplers to fill four feet of parchment. "Er, how about you try another object?" Remus asked in what he hoped was a supportive tone.

Peter looked at Remus as though he now saw him in a completely different light.

"Of course!" He exclaimed, and turned back to his notes. He squinted at them, taking upon himself the Bold and Noble Quest of Deciphering.

Remus felt his mind wandering. Halloween was coming up. To most, this was an exciting prospect; candy, festive apparel, and day of no classes. While Remus most certainly did not dislike any of these things, he was definitely dreading the night of the 31st. Halloween night always brought about the worst of his transformations and his most supreme desire for human blood.

"Uh, Remus?" Peter was waving his parchment free hand in his face. "Hel-_lo_?"

Remus recovered himself. "Sorry Peter, say that again?"

"I was just wondering if you could help me figure out what this here says." He beckoned for Remus to come over to him. "Do you think this looks more like 'cat' or 'roof'?" He pointed at the culpable word.

_I believe you have my _roof? _That can't be right. _Remus raised his eyebrows at the paper. "To tell you the truth, it looks like 'car door'."

Sudden comprehension dawned on Peter's face. "Wow, you're right." He squinted down at the writing as though wondering why it was there. He brought it closer to his face, then away again.

Remus yawned and looked to the curtain-less window. The sun was streaming into the room in beams through the tree branches outside. It had to be around four o'clock. He wondered how Sirius and James were doing. James was having his first practice of the season, and Sirius, Remus supposed, was observing from the stands, no doubt ignoring a crowd of ogling girls. Sirius had no idea how easy he had it, Remus thought wryly.

"All right, Remus. I believe you have my car door?"

"Er. Yes, it seems that way to me. Uh. Would you like it back, perchance?"

"Yes, please. It is a very important part of my… car."

Remus nodded encouragingly. "Certainly. Though, I must say, I do not believe you are of driving age."

"Pardon?"

"Well, Peter, you see, driving in the Muggle world is much like Apparating. You have to be of a certain age before you're allowed to do it legally."

"I suppose fifteen's too young, then?"

"A bit."

"Ah, well." Peter shrugged. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Almost four, I think." Remus rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Oh. Oh!" Peter stood up abruptly, parchment and inkwells scattering.

"What is it?"

"Uh, I, that is—I'm sorry, Remus. I just, uhm, remembered something I had to, uh, something I had to do. Er. I'll see you later, then. Uhm. Bye. Thanks. And, well, bye." And with that thoroughly insufficient farewell, he scurried out of the dormitory, leaving behind a nonplussed Remus to watch contemplatively as black ink seeped into once-white bed sheets.

* * *

**HAPPY NEW YEAR**


	5. Blood Traitors and Dumbledore's Chair

Author's Note: Maria here. I suck.

Disclaimer: We don't own them because I suck. Hah.

* * *

"You're late, Pettigrew."

"S-sorry. It's just that—well, you see, I got caught up with—I was—I'm sorry. Sorry."

"Stop prattling, you idiot. I see that remembering your engagements is too much to expect of you."

"I didn't mean to—I didn't mean to forget, I just—"

"Of course you didn't mean to. You aim to please after all, isn't that right?"

"Yes. Yes."

"Last we met, you expressed explicit interest in our cause. However, there is still the issue of your loyalties to address."

He said nothing, swallowed hard.

"Where _do_ your loyalties lie, Pettigrew?"

His breathing became shallow and his palms clammy with sweat.

"With Potter?"

James. He inhaled deeply. "No. Not him."

"The blood traitor?"

He shook his head vehemently. "Not Si—not Black. Not Lu-Lupin either."

"I remain unconvinced, Pettigrew."

He gaped openly before launching into a desperate tirade. "But it's true! It's true! I'm not lying! Ja—I mean, Potter—Potter doesn't—_doesn't_—mean anything to me. None of them do! I am completely devoted—_completely _devoted t-to the purist cause. To purity!" His voice was hysterical. "No more f-f-filthy mudbloods or—or blood traitors! And—and—"

"But can you prove to us that your zeal is genuine?"

"Yes!"

"And that you can truly forsake your Gryffindor companions?"

"W-whatever it takes!"

"Then I suppose you are ready to take on your first task?"

"I—yes."

"It is a minor test, simple even for the likes of you. It is just to verify that you are faithful to us alone."

"I will not fail. Will not. Won't."

"Good. The Dark Lord will be pleased. Snape? The assignment, if you will."

* * *

"Moony! Oy, Moony!"

"James, your chin is bleeding."

"Quidditch," said James, as if that explained everything (and it probably did). "You know where Sirius is?"

"I thought he was with you."

"Nah. He disappeared in the middle of practice. Just thought you might've seen him, is all."

"I haven't, and Peter ran out on me too."

"Yeah? You don't think they're up to something, do you?"

"Like Peter could keep anything from you, James.

James laughed appreciatively as he clapped Remus on the shoulder. "Let's find them then. We have some trouble to get into!"

"You mean _you_ have trouble to get into. I, on the other hand, will observe from a distance where no harm will come to me or my position as prefect."

"Whatever works for you, Moony."

"Glad you understand."

"If that's the case, you have a rather liberal definition of 'understand,' mate."

"In your case, James, my definition extends to include the clause 'to know of the meaning and implications, but to not know any better despite that.'"

"Such wit, Lupin. Such wit."

"Thank you. Now, I'd like to find Sirius before he somehow manages to level half of Hogwarts."

"Duly noted."

"And Peter too, before he finds himself trapped in some self-locking room."

"Like that time when he—"

"Yes, exactly like that time.

"Let's go then!"

"Why do we associate with these people, James?"

"Because they are most dear to us."

"That's a convenient little fact."

"It keeps me from throttling them on a daily basis."

"Sirius should be thankful then."

"He better be, or else I'll wring his neck."

"But he is most dear to you."

"Not if he keeps missing practice, he isn't."

"He's not even on the team, James."

"But I am! And he could be if he'd try out."

"That's favoritism."

"No, no. I've seen him play before. He's actually pretty decent."

"Then I suppose he can't be bothered to."

"Yeah. Lazy, insufferable bastard."

"Who is most dear to you."

"Unfortunately."

* * *

The Great Hall was strangely empty as Sirius padded silently between the student-less tables and towards the raised platform upon which the Hogwarts teaching staff sat during meals. Above him, the house banners fluttered in a late autumn breeze that brought promise of winter and snowball fights and ice-skating on the Great Lake. It also reminded him of the holidays, and his spirits plummeted as he thought of grim hallways and a Black Christmas.

But that was later, and for now, he was happy and free in Hogwarts, with his friends and without his family. Only, at the moment, he was as without-friends as he was without-family. He felt another pang when he realized that the Marauders hadn't planned anything this Halloween. James had his Captain responsibilities (and Lily, he remembered with just a touch of bitterness) and Remus and Peter weren't instigators by nature. That left only him, and it wasn't the Marauders with just Sirius and no JamesRemusPeter.

He stopped just before the staff table, eye-level with and staring at the wooden legs of empty chairs. He felt impossibly dejected, loneliness and emptiness and nothingness tugging at him like little children who say "Come play" and grin like knives.

James has always accused him of being overly emotional, and Remus has always laughed because he believes it's true.

"You're unhinged, Padfoot," said third-year Remus with a smirk.

"_Doors _get unhinged. I am _not_ a door," he replied indignantly.

First-year James (pre-Lily James) shoved him playfully. "No, but you seal off your secrets like a door seals off rooms."

"I don't _have_ secrets."

"Liar. We all do."

He climbed up onto the platform and settles himself in Dumbledore's chair.

He smiled to himself because he has never felt so out of place in his life. He was Black instead of Sirius, and Black blood hissed _traitor _as his hand touched the wood.

Grey eyes closed and he slept.


End file.
